As a child, I was desperate to have a cast. At some point in elementary school, my classmates started showing up with brightly colored arms and legs, casted to protect their quietly healing broken bones.

I grew up in a Methodist Church in a small town in North Carolina. When I reached my pre-teen years, I moved from the children’s programming to Methodist Youth Fellowship, or MYF. Most of the time, I felt comfortable with the lessons they were teaching. Except for the talks about sex and sexual purity.

In her book The United Methodist Deacon, Rev. Dr. Margaret Ann Crain explains, “Because deacons are also ordained but usually do not do what elders do, we are challenged to think about ordination as identity rather than function.”

It started with Pelé, the Hawai’ian Volcano Goddess who governs fire, lightning, volcanoes, and the flow of lava. When my little family set off on a big adventure in June 2015, I knew I’d research and paint her as a Holy Woman Icon.

When puberty began, I assumed I was like everyone else. They got crushes on people, I got crushes on people. They wanted to hold hands and kiss their crushes, I wanted to hold hands and kiss my crushes.